


five

by aigremoine



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Reunions, idk how to tag this as tbh, im deprived of claude and fbyleth post-war content, its not graphic but pls feel free to correct me so i can change it, personal interpretation of that short ending that showed up at the credits, rated bc of a battle scene, spoilers for Golden Deer route, spoilers for claude and fbyleth's s support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 21:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20316652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aigremoine/pseuds/aigremoine
Summary: the start of the new moon meant turning the calendar over once more, another number to add to the moons passed since then





	five

**Author's Note:**

> extremely self-indulgent, personal interpretation of the claude and fbyleth epilogue at the end of the game. i just love mr claude von riegan ok (i say as i load my second blue lions run)

**five moons  
**

Five moons feel like an eternity.

Byleth turns the calendar over to mark the start of the new Pegasus Moon, fingers brushing against the fine paper. It’s been five months since she’d last seen him, five months since she’d last heard from him since he left. At times she wonders if this a game of sorts constructed by him, a way to get back at her for making him wait five years for her return, something that isn’t entirely absurd knowing him and his mischievous streak. She admits that she’s antsy for his return, a brief glance at the emerald ring on her finger reminding her of his parting words and promise, though Byleth supposes that her five months of anticipation is nothing to his five years.

Still, she can’t help but think about him, wonders how he’s doing and what is happening across the border. She had the idea of sending a scout to investigate the ongoing affairs of Almyra but Hilda talked her out of it before she could even properly mull over the thought. _You have to trust him_, Hilda had said, _it’s Claude we’re talking about_. Even Lorenz had insisted to have faith in his capability, something that he admits even his younger self wouldn’t have had. But _really_, as if Byleth needed any reminder of how capable he was, all too familiar his tactical prowess and mastery of the battlefield as his teacher and ally. Regardless, she’s thankful for the reassurance, keeps them tucked in her heart whenever the ache of missing him threatens to bloom. 

A knock on the doors of Byleth’s bedchambers interrupts her thoughts, raises her voice to answer with a “come in!” to grant them permission. There’s a grim look on Leonie’s features when she enters, brows furrowed and lips forming a tight line, a rare expression on her face once the war with the Imperial forces ended five months prior.

“Profe – I mean – _Your Majesty_,” Leonie begins, catching herself but Byleth raises a hand to stop her.

“Feel free to call me whatever you’d like,” Byleth reminds, a tiny smile forming on her lips.

The visiting mercenary shakes her head. “Nuh-uh, not when you’re the queen of Fódlan now,” she answers with a grin, which immediately fades as she continues. “But anyways, there’s something more important than deciding what title to call you by.”

She nods to allow her former student to continue. “Their army is approaching Derdriu,” informs Leonie gravely. “It looks like they’ll be here in a week or less.”

Byleth glances out the castle window overlooking the peaceful skyline of the capital city of the kingdom, dotted by the bustling activity of citizens going about their day. The wounds of the five-year long war with the Imperial army are still fresh and peace still fragile, making it opportune for them to invade the new kingdom. It will be a difficult skirmish, she thinks, but a fleeting glimpse at the emerald ring steels her resolve and Byleth turns to Leonie with a hard gaze, one that hadn’t been seen since the decisive battle at the Caledonian Plateau.

She had a promise to keep to her people, her students, and to _him_ after all.

* * *

**five seconds  
**

Byleth grits her teeth as she swings the Sword of the Creator to cut down the enemy paladdin, just as Hilda’s wyvern dives as she fends off an attacking Imperial knight with Freikugel. A momentary wave of relief washes over her as she casts a glance around the battlefield for her former students: Lorenz and Lysithea fending off mounted foes with their combined magical abilities, Marianne coordinating healing supports and attacks, while Leonie and Raphael aggressively maintain the offensive as Ignatz commands the archers. It’s not the most ideal class reunion for her Golden Deer, the army of the kingdom and their allies outnumbered by the combined forces of the remnants of the Imperial Army and Those Who Slither In The Dark, the possibility of defeat looming.

“Professor!” Lorenz calls out, summoning plumes of fire into the battlefield with Ragnarok. “We can’t hold off much longer!”

Byleth grips the Sword of the Creator tighter, slashes a nearby armored unit. The kingdom’s army is far too small to repel the invaders, the losses in the recent war far too great to continue fighting and defending Derdriu. There’s little that they could do to endure, not when they’ve already exhausted all their available avenues to fight the battle they’re on the verge of losing. Yet she _must_ to protect the future they’ve worked towards, and with a swing of the sword, Byleth unleashes Sublime Heaven with all her might to annihilate the advancing enemy units.

Lysithea casts a wave of darkness with her tome, overpowering the swarm of Imperial knights. “Professor, we must retreat!”

It’s a word foreign to her vocabulary, something her father had never taught her in their occupation as mercenaries and in the past skirmishes they had fought to liberate Fódlan from the Imperial forces. A part of Byleth knows that the kingdom is fighting a losing battle, yet she wants to remain to defend the land they’ve led towards a brand-new beginning. She glances down at her ring looped on a chain fastened around her neck, recalls his promise of meeting once more in a peaceful, happy world. There was no way that she would give up on fulfilling his wish, what had been perceived by others as a pipe dream – not when they were one step closer to achieving it for their peoples. 

But before Byleth could give a command, a cacophonous roar from the east resounds across the battlefield, almost muffling the sounds of the fighting, and Hilda emits a startling scream of “_professor!_” from atop her wyvern.

Byleth quickly casts her a look and House Goneril’s eldest daughter exclaims as she swings Freikugel and knocks down an Agarthan mage. “_Look!_”

The reverberating roar is accompanied by the sight of charging troops and a sinking feeling threatens to settle into the pit of Byleth’s stomach as they enter the fray with their weapons ready. She almost yells out an order at the remaining kingdom troops, only for the words to get caught in her throat in disbelief as she watches the militia engage in battle with the rebel forces and a stark white wyvern dives down from the sky to land in front of her.

A burning sensation threatens to burst within seconds inside her chest at the familiar sight, clad in yellow and black with that ever-present smile and wink directed her way.

“Having some trouble getting rid of garbage, my friend?”

Byleth allows herself a smile as she responds almost breathlessly, “a bit.”

Claude grins, readies Failnaught as his wyvern roars. “Well then, I guess we’ll have to help with the cleaning up. Shall we?”

* * *

**five minutes**

Byleth sneaks out of the lively festivities in the banquet hall of the palace, breathing a sigh of relief at the fresh, cool evening air enveloping her. She’s been in her fair share of celebrations, especially after her coronation as queen, yet she still can’t get used to their bustle and the accompanying ruckus, amplified with the barrels of wine being brought forth from the cellars. She hopes that the Almyrans do not find it rude that the queen of the new allied kingdom is retiring early from the feast, but she knows that their king probably won’t mind.

She finds herself following the path leading to the palace’s tallest tower overlooking the city, navigates the turns and steps automatically with ease. It’s a habit she’s formed as a form of relief from her responsibilities as the queen, relishing the silence of the night and the solitude after the end of the day. The tower is _her_ place, something the guards and attendants grew to learn, and distance was carefully maintained.

So, when Byleth reaches the peak of the tower, she’s surprised to find someone already there.

Claude turns at the sound of her footsteps against the stone, the corner of his lips quirking into a nonchalant smile as he raises a hand in greeting when she nears. Warmth flickers in her chest when she notices a glint of silver on his finger against the moonlight. “Ah, Your Majesty. Fancy seeing you here.”

“I could say the same."

He winks. “Well! This citadel is – _was_ – House Riegan’s, you know. I still know my way around; I can point out the good secret entrances unless you’ve had them boarded up.”

Byleth can’t help but smile. She hadn’t forgotten that the stronghold was previously House Riegan residence and meeting place of the Leicester Alliance Roundtable; it was hard to forget, not when Claude had given her the domain prior to his departure and one of the reasons she made Derdriu the capital of the kingdom. She admits it’s also because of how she’s grown sentimental because of him, probably something Jeralt would be shocked and amused to witness if he were still in the world. “Perhaps there were a few sealed over the past little while.”

Claude sighs, shrugs his shoulders. “Huh, I guess I won’t be able to sneak around the grounds to my liking anymore.”

“There’s no need for you to do that.”

“No,” he agrees as he takes two steps forward, standing close enough that Byleth can see his eyes twinkling. “I suppose not.”

Claude tugs on her hand, pulls her to his chest, and Byleth feels a lump rising in her throat as she rests her head against his shoulder. His warmth is incredibly comforting, something that she’s missed in the five moons she’d last seen him, and her fingers instinctively clutch the black mantle draped over his shoulder. He hums softly, loops an arm around her and presses his lips against her temple.

“I’m back,” Claude mumbles. “I’m back.”

Byleth can’t help but smile as she looks up at him. “Welcome back.”

“I missed you. Did you miss me?”

“A bit.”

Claude raises a brow, feigns an expression of disbelief at her response. “Just _a bit_? I was gone for quite a while.”

“For five moons, yes.”

A mischievous tone replaces the shocked one. “Ah, so you _were_ keeping track?”

Heat threatens to bloom across her cheeks and Byleth emits a tiny cough to compose herself. She wonders when he’s had this effect on her, but she supposes that it’s too late to ponder about it now, not when his ring is snug around her finger. “I was,” she admits.

Claude winks. “I was too. I missed you so much.”

Byleth loosens her grip on his clothing, raises her hands to cup his jaw and lower his face closer to hers. “I missed you too.”

* * *

**five weeks**

Reforms concerning both sides of the border take place over the coming weeks thanks to the combined efforts of the Queen of the United Kingdom of Fódlan and the King of Almyra. Policies of the past are dismantled, replaced by ones favoring solidarity and peace between both kingdoms. Byleth knows that there is still plenty of work to do until the ideal world they envision comes into fruition, still many war-torn villages and livelihoods to rebuild after the long war with the Imperial army and the recent skirmish with its remnants. But she’s not alone, not when she has her Golden Deer working towards harmony in their own respective regions.

Peace settling into Derdriu marked the departure of Byleth’s former students, the group convening for the last time at the entrance hall of the citadel to say their farewells. She feels a pang in her chest, a bittersweet feeling to see them off – sadness at their departures yet pride that they are diverging into their own paths.

Lorenz clears his throat first. “Well then, I will be taking my leave first. Do invite me to the wedding – _ouch!_”

Byleth gapes in surprise as Lorenz doubles over in pain, clutches his side right where Lysithea jabbed her elbow forcefully, misses the glare Claude shoots the head of House Gloucester. “_Weeding_!” She exclaims, forcing a smile and nods a little too enthusiastically. “Yes, call us if you’re going to do weeding.”

“Weeding?” Byleth echoes, brows furrowing in confusion. “What for?”

“Oh, you know!” answers Hilda, waves a hand. “There’s a lot of weeding to do in the castle grounds, just like back when we were in Garreg Mach – right, Marianne?”

Marianne fiddles with her hands. “Erm, y-yes. Y-you can call us to help. Just like in the past.”

Raphael lets out a mighty laugh. “I’ll be there as long as there’s a feast after the weeding!”

“I’ll be there too,” chimes Ignatz. “Just send an owl, professor!”

“Hey, she’s the _queen_ now,” corrects Claude with a playful tone. “You should address her as such.”

“Whatever, you’re not the kind of person to follow titles anyways,” Leonie rolls her eyes. “_Your Majesty_.”

Hilda scoffs, “Claude doesn’t need to be addressed as a king, it’s not like he acts like one anyways.”

“Whoa, whoa,” the King of Almyra shakes his head. “What happened to manners?”

“Alright _everyone_,” Lysithea raises her voice to interrupt the babble threatening to erupt. “It’s time for us to _go_.”

Each Golden Deer bids their farewell to their former teacher and former house leader, departing with fond smiles on their faces as they join their awaiting entourages. Byleth and Claude watch as they pass through the gates of the palace and separate to head to their own destinations, remaining at the entrance hall until their figures disappear in the distance. 

“Well then, Your Majesty,” Claude begins, prompting Byleth to turn to him. “I believe we have a trade agreement to discuss.”

With the departure of the lively Golden Deer, the remainder of the day passes by uneventfully, occupied with negotiations and agreements between the representatives of the United Kingdom of Fódlan and Almyra, and night settles in. Byleth’s hand reaches for the doorknob of her bedchambers, only to pause in her tracks when she notices a piece of paper wedged in the middle of the wooden double doors. A smile tugs on her lips when she recognizes the recognizable scrawl and she turns on her heel.

_Resting can wait for a little bit_, she thinks to herself as she ascends the stairs leading to the tower, finding his familiar figure staring out into Derdriu’s evening skyline. Claude turns, grins when he notices her approach closer.

“Sorry for calling you out here like this,” he begins.

“You said that before,” she muses. “Back in the Goddess Tower.”

Claude hums. “I did, huh? Interesting that you brought it up.”

Byleth casts him a puzzled look and his gaze flickers to the emerald ring on her left finger. “Do you remember anything else I said that night?”

She nods. “Majority of it, yes.”

A smile forms on his lips, both in relief and satisfaction at her answer. “That’s good because I don’t have any intention to go back on my word,” Claude reaches out, takes her left hand in his, and warmth blooms in Byleth’s chest at the fond gaze in his eyes. “I’m never going to let you go.”

He wraps his arms around her frame, pulls her close to him, and Byleth closes her eyes. Claude’s words feel more than a promise, his words carrying weight that she can feel. She’s all too familiar with it, his resolve strong to make his ambitions a reality, one of the things she’s grown to admire about him. His love for her is no exception, his very presence after moons of waiting after that fateful night the very proof of it.

Byleth tilts her head to stare up at him, murmurs softly, “Claude.”

“Yes, my love?”

“Marry me.”

She feels him freeze, eyes widening as he locks gazes with her. Claude searches her eyes for a heartbeat, almost as though to make sure that he heard her words correctly, before he lets out a breathy chuckle. “Are you sure about that?” He prompts playfully, raising a brow.

“I’ve never been surer about anything else.”

The way his lips press against hers is more than an answer; a _yes_, _I love you_, _thank you_ all at once – a warm and sweet and incredibly delightful.

* * *

**five years**

Theia von Riegan arrives into the world five years after Sirius. The eldest House Riegan son peers at the sleeping bundle against his mother’s chest, eyes alight with curiosity and excitement. “She’s so small!” Sirius exclaims in a hushed voice, trying to keep his voice as he turns to Byleth first and then Claude. “Tiny!”

Claude chuckles while he turns away from the window overlooking the revelries taking place in Derdriu’s streets, still yet to reach their peak even hours after the announcement of his daughter’s birth, bed creaking from his weight as he sits down on the edge of Byleth’s bed.

“Isn’t she? You were as small as her when you were born.”

“Was I? I’ve grown big, right?” Sirius asks, making his way to snuggle into his father’s chest.

“You’ve grown _very_ big – big enough that I probably can’t carry you anymore,” answers Claude, grunts under the weight of the child. “But that means you can walk with me now.”

“Does that mean I can learn archery?”

“In due time, little one.”

Sirius pouts while his father sets him on his lap. “But you said I’m _big_ now.”

Byleth smiles at the conversation, watches Claude kiss the top of the boy’s head to appease him before glancing down at the sleeping newborn in her arms. Even with the birth of their second child, it was still a foreign sensation to bring forth a new life into the world and nurture a family. It had been one thing to educate students in the art of warfare in the Officers Academy, to hold seminars to advance strengths, to guide citizens and rule a kingdom – but to raise children was another league. She wonders how her father had been able to look after her alongside being a mercenary, a pang in her chest at the sudden wish for him to see and hold his grandchildren.

Claude seems to have an inkling of her thoughts, comments a, “Your grandfather Jeralt would have started teaching you the sword the moment you could walk.”

“He would have,” she agrees. “He would probably give you a toy sword as a birthday gift.”

Claude laughs merrily at the image, while Sirius turns to Byleth enthusiastically. “Really?” The five-year-old asks. “He would do that?”

“Yes,” answers Byleth, smiling at the child. “Because he did exactly that when I was your age.”

“_Whoa_!” gasps Sirius, only to place his hands on his mouth when Theia begins to whimper in their mother’s arms. Byleth softly coos at the newborn, gently rocks her back to sleep, as Claude looks down at his son on his lap.

“You’re a big brother now,” he says with a grin. “That’s a big responsibility.”

Sirius looks determined. “I can do anything!”

“Well then, can you hold her?” Byleth suggests, prompting her son to look at her with wide eyes.

“Can I?”

“I thought you said you can do anything,” teases Claude, pinching the boy’s cheek.

“Then I can!” The boy announces as Byleth leans over to guide him with carrying the newborn, actions cautious as he holds Theia in his arms. Sirius’ eyes are wide as he stares down at his sleeping sibling for a moment before planting a peck on top of her head. “Happy birthday, Theia!”

A smile forms on Claude’s lips at the sight, turns to Byleth with fondness and joy in his eyes and she smiles back. It was still hard to believe that they have brought forth children into the world, a world that they had envisioned to be peaceful and happy, worked hard to bring into existence. A glance outside the window reminds her that it is the new reality across Fódlan and Almyra, unity and harmony as their peoples live side by side, the land then-ravaged by the war now serene and restored. She hopes that Sirius and Theia grow well, that the unity she and Claude worked towards is still present even in the future generations, that the values they shared with the peoples are still upheld even when they are gone.

As Byleth watches her two children, she senses that the future of Fódlan and Almyra is going to be very bright.


End file.
